


drivel dem dads -- an anthology

by rhys (TeaPlease)



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, Goths, Lesbians, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sexting, experimenting, gay shit, preps, spc mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:25:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaPlease/pseuds/rhys
Summary: I wanted, so I created.Collection of drabbles, sometimes one-shots, probably different types of continuations, I wrote!Expect a lot of Hugo/Damien, Hugo/Dad, Damien/Dad, and... Roberts.and polyamory.





	1. love in the hot afternoon (damien/hugo)

**Author's Note:**

> based off a dream  
> hugo damien goodness.  
> will i expand on this more? BET.

“Did you know,” Damien started slowly, working Hugo’s erection, “that for the longest time, I had trouble watching ‘Dracula’?” He looked up at the flushed face of his lover and smiled almost coyly when they made eye contact.

It was the mid-afternoon on a government mandated day-off. He found that it was one of the times Hugo was most suggestible when certain factors were thrown into the mix. If he’d pushed himself to work extra hard before the day-off, to grade as many essays, then had a problem with Ernest that was diffused incredibly easily, ended with an evening of Steve Harvey shows-- which segued beautifully into their current situation.

Hugo was always so adorable when he was like this. Silent and acquiescent. They could both go on for hours just talking. Facts were bounced back and forth so easily. But in the dark of the afternoon, in Damien’s large bed, he loved this man’s silence.

He loved seeing his muscles tense and fingers clutch at the sheets, how someone so strong bowed to him. This is why his mouth had not even touched Hugo’s cock yet (although it was tempting) and how he could smirk, and blush, and make quips that he _knew_ the man next to him would love to jump on.

Twisting his grip, he made a sound involuntarily- the nerve to giggle, maybe!- as Hugo bucked and threw an arm over his face with a groan.

“Yes, it’s actually a rather funny story…” Damien continued, humming. 


	2. special containment procedures: ban internet (robert/dadsona)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first in many adventures that double as wild dates w/ cha boi robert
> 
> scp foundation x robert = ???? but like ???  
> ALSO, YEAH. DADSONA'S NAME IS DADDERSON. It makes me giggle.

This was a mistake. It was _stupid_ to have shown it to Robert, just one dumb link to one dump website. Now they were seven hours out of town with the only source of light being the gleam coming off the big ol’ eyes on the front of Robert’s pick-up as they bumped along a non-existent path.

Glancing sideways, Dadderson sighed. His friend-who-was-potentially-going-to-be-his-boyfriend kept his eyes on the road; dictating directions was left up to Dadderson. The silence had been going on for the last two hours now. Queen’s _Best Of_ had looped twice before the music had plain been extinguished.

The silence was going to suffocate Dadderson.

“... Robert, the SCP Foundation isn’t a _th_ -

“I don’t want to hear your fucking blasphemy. That shit is too detailed. We’re going to find our _own_ SCP and enter a report.”

“They use images from CreepyPastas!”

“No picture can capture real evil!”

Dadderson stared out of the window with another deep sigh. Somehow, he’d have to find a way to make this romantic.


	3. silver chord (mary/femme)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mary thinks about the j-trend in her life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Mary and no one will deter me from these 4 noble truths:  
> 1\. mary is damien's sis  
> 2\. mary was a goth  
> 3\. mary is not straight  
> 4\. mary is cool

She’d felt the hand on the small of her back for the last two minutes now, which is longer than any hand should be anywhere on her body, and was beginning to get fed up. They were at the the abandoned mechanical engineering building and it was crowded, but large enough to not be a burden. But that even more so begged the question why a stranger had their hand on her back.

Mary finally turned to confront the problem head on. Her patience was thin, her lips were black, and she wasn’t going to let this asshole make her red face show through the grave paint that she’d spent so much time of her night applying. It was hot and uncomfortable and she wanted to have _fun_.

“You need something?” she snapped. She was always good at being poisonous. She didn’t want to obviously adjust herself, lifting her chin defensively, but more to look the stranger in their face. They were a very tall stranger.

“Need, no. I do want something, though.” Mary gave a derisive snort and rolled her eyes to look back at the dance floor. There was finally some good, distracting music on. Without looking, she set her glass down and procured a compact from her clutch.

“Yeah and I want a drink and my personal space. We all have unmet desires.”

Mary would admit that she got her way in a lot of ways. She was always very good at that. Not that she found herself to be particularly charming, just appealing enough in the right ways to the right people. She lifted a fine, thinly arched eyebrow at the stranger who made a show of ordering a drink (Bloody Mary, how unoriginal) and handing it to her.

They shared this connection for a little. Mary drinking and looking out at the dance floor, with a stranger’s hand on the small of her back. It did not occur to her that she would be having sex tonight. She came out with the intention of supporting Damien and supervising him while he maintained the amp systems and lights in the makeshift “sound cave” lofted above the proceedings.

 

Mary didn’t know what “gold-star” meant. It sounded excellent, though, so when the stranger asked if she was one, Mary said yes. The alcohol had been half done when she was pulled away from the bar area and into the empty, dirty locker station. It looked like a horror movie set.

Having someone go down on her in full goth attire was an experience that should’ve been hilarious and disgusting, but she remembers it very little, but with great fondness. The stranger said she was too uptight to fuck proper with a strap so tongue was the go-to instead. In the full crotchless panty set- Damien’s insistence, to “match”- Mary marveled at the sight of fried hair bobbing between her thighs. She doesn’t recall if she made a lot of noise. She remembers it being overwhelming, so overwhelming that the image of that stranger’s head and the fried hair is the only thing she can remember of the sexual event. Her back was on a bench, head half off it and legs sprawled out with the skirt of her dress bunched around her waist. The corset was squeezing her dry-- maybe that’s why she came so hard?

When Joseph asked, quietly, so shy, “are you a virgin?” she didn’t think it was a lie when she said “yes.” She knew what gold-star was when  _that_ happened. If there were gold-stars for gays, there had to be the equivalent for heterosexuality.

Joseph’s hair was dark brown, not the blue-black, fried out head from years ago. But as he lapped greedily, Mary recalled a name: that stranger, her name was Jules. She’d seen her afterward- when?- and Damien had known her, something, somehow.

Jules. 

And now Joseph.

She tried not to cringe, failed, and masked it as a  _very_ pleased shudder.


	4. almost voyeurism (damien/dadderson, implied craig/dad/damien)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> craig is fucking gorgeous and dadderson eats it up  
> and someone else

Dadderson leaned forward and hissed at the pain that shot through his back and ass. His thighs were still burning, too. Even more so now after two hours of...  _this_.

These late-night trysts with Damien were wearing on his old bones. It was romantic to have a little foray in the cemetery but the ground was unforgiving and he was not as… bendy as his lover. Which was why he was here, now, doing some stretches with Craig. Which was a bad idea. Because when Craig  meant “do some stretches out at the yard!” he meant “twist our bodies into different positions to recreate medieval torture poses.”

His breath hitched as he attempted to touch his toes, limp in the air before lunging toward the inch left to reach the ground.

Craig laughed when he yelled. “Yeah, man, let it out! C’mon, push- you can do it- push yeaaaa that’s the good stuff!” Craig himself was straightening out and- were his feet levitating off the ground? What is he doing?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Crane style, man! Crow pose, as we call it nowadays!” Cahn was an unstoppable force of energy, humble to the core, apparently a shape-shifting, pretzel-forming,  _ young _ God. Dadderson stared at him with a lost look in his eyes. His wrists could never. Hell, his arms would buckle immediately trying to do that. Craig obviously say his expression and laughed- it held a tremor, thank fuck, Dadderson was beginning to really think deep about telling Robert about his new theory. “Don’t stress, I’m not gonna make you do this one.”

With a deep sigh, Dadder did his best not to collapse. “I’m taking a break.”

He walked a short distance to sit heavy on the grass of Craig’s manicured grass. Next to him was where Craig dropped his shirt. It was sweaty and musty. In the crow pose, Craig’s back was defined to a tee, thighs tense and ass sculpted underneath his branded pants. And his spine, it was just this magnificent arrow just going right through a curved body.

Shit. Craig was so hot.

A realization snapped his attention to the high, high window where Damien stood silhouetted. He stared for a long time and glared when he could just  _ feel _ the man grinning and closing the curtain.

Next time, he would get a form of absolute revenge.

But back to hot Craig.


End file.
